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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272906">Feast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_Found/pseuds/Paradise_Found'>Paradise_Found</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Erotica, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Oral Sex, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Teasing, This is my first time writing in my funny voice, are you hungry for daddy?, if not i apologize, it's a fucking piece of smut what else did you expect, this should be somewhat comical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_Found/pseuds/Paradise_Found</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malgus is a 12-course dinner plus the little mint you get when you pay for your meal. You’re going to be full after this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleena Daru/Darth Malgus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Feast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy holidays my fellow freaks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The beckoning of wakefulness tosses Eleena in her slumber. Malgus’s alarm disturbs the serenity of early morning, each breath brings her closer to uninvited alertness and total elimination of any certainty of sleep. Just like her, the sun is taking an equally slow ascend to the horizon; a smoke of yellow sits stubbornly at the end of the sky, in the backdrop of the supposed morning. Arms outstretched, she pats the linens on his side of the bed, expecting to feel the gravity of his body, but all she gets is a handful of dissipating warmth. Malgus sits at the edge of their bed, with the blue shine of his datapad on his complexion, the only light source at this moment. It is a light not to be celebrated. He sighs, or is it more of a disgusted groan? The words swim past his eyes at a pace that none other than him would be able to retain the information displayed. So many tasks already, and he has only just woken up.</p><p>“Come back to bed.” Eleena’s tone is not one of blunt demand but also not one of polite request. She wraps her arms around his shoulders with the deliberate press of her body on his back. Her words wander in his ear, they dance on the perimeter of his consciousness, the cruelty of his mind turning his feigned disinterest into a vision of what would happen if he laid back down.</p><p>“You know I cannot.” His eyes have not left his datapad, purposely suppressing Eleena’s advances.</p><p>“It is as easy as giving in.” She says, fingers smooth over the hard of his chest muscles. A deep inhale giving her all the fuel she needs, intoxicating all the senses she has. His skin, as pale as the moon and as hot as the sun, his warmth diffuses through the touch of her fingers, it is the torch that lights her flame. The smell of him, like sweet musk from a forbidden fruit, clandestine and priceless, one taste of it and she hungers for more. His eyes, a vigorous citrine, all of his unspoken thoughts reveal themselves to her in his neverending gaze. The layers of his personality are hidden behind the guise of his title, only she has access to the depth of him; she has emblazoned the truth of his eyes in her mind and there they will stay, forever.</p><p>A pale hand moves hers to an unoccupied corner of the bed. A sudden rejection! Just like when you’re at the supermarket and you see a head of broccoli, screaming in green healthiness, rejected and lost from the rest of its vegetal brethren, rehomed in the aisle where chocolates are stocked. You know some hard choices were made, and that choice was not broccoli, or sex, in Malgus’s case. How many times has she not felt like being intimate, but still obliged him because it was easier to say yes than no? How dare he? Of all people, he should understand that to try and go on with the day without satisfying that itch, would be a punishment most severe.</p><p>He stands and walks to the bathroom without a hint of regret. The sound of bursting water from the shower laughs at her boldness and foolish thinking. Defeat is unacceptable. She cannot lose, not to time or tasks or anything out of the unnecessary boxes they put themselves in.</p><p>She leans a shoulder on the wall of the bathroom, standing on the outskirts of the thick fog of the shower. The plumes of misted warmth flow past her, adding more kindling to her already fueled flame. She runs her gaze in tune with the water as it traces every curve and line on Malgus’s body. It sets her in a trance, she thinks of the things she could do to him, in the various ways she could do them in. She undresses, jealous that she was discarded, cast aside, left without comfort, over the simplicity of personal hygiene. She steps into the mist, keeping as quiet as she could, only to be recognized by something she cannot repress.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks without looking. His broad back towards her, head hangs low under the hot water with one arm against the wall. Eleena tiptoes into the shower and joins him under the cleansing stream. Her cool body rests along his heated back. She tightens her grip on him; he is as slippery as a teenager’s wet dream. Her long fingers move down towards their destination with haste. First, she feels the softness of his pubic hairs, they catch themselves on the tips of her nails, slowing her trajectory. Undeterred, she dives down further to the shaft of his eroticism, he stiffens to her will, quickly and without fail. Lastly, a massage to the tip of his half erection, slow strokes of harsh teasing. He lets out an exasperated sigh at the uncontrollable yearnings of his body in the tenderness of her touch and turns to face her. Finally, her actions are about to come to fruition, a quick lick of her lips as he holds her by the arms and then—</p><p>Disappointment. Utter and complete disappointment. </p><p>She stares at the scene, excruciatingly frustrated. Water speeds along her body on its way down to the floor, an atonement of his audacity splayed out in clear reflection. Her nakedness unwanted, and for what? His inflated sense of duty. He returns to his stance under the hot water. An unobstructed view of the transparisteel shower door separates the two. Naked bodies untouched. One begs for the other, voices unheard, unattended to. He took her by the arms, moved her out of the shower, and closed the door behind him.</p><p>A spewing spring of revenge breaks the calm in her. She leaves him to his own thoughts, for now. She parades to the kitchen, uninhibited and unconcerned. She turns the kettle on for some much-needed soothing by tea. She prepares a cup, not two, and watches the water roll over itself, only soft waves at first, then, into angry boiling surfs. Loose leaves dance, twirl and jump amidst rehydration, delicate webs of rich maltiness announce its existence into the air. She takes a slow sip, allowing its warmth to replace the sourness of rejection.</p><p>Malgus escapes the thick steam, face deep in thought of unseen scenarios described by his datapad. He moves to their bedroom and proceeds to methodically prepare himself for war. At the final piece of his armour, the chest piece, it disobeys his command and is unable to allow itself to be properly clasped. Eleena stands at the doorway, frustration renews into amusement. She watches his fingers fumble at something he has done since his youth. He knows he is being watched, and perhaps, that is the reason for his failure to dress himself. </p><p>“Do you need some help with that?” She asks and takes a long drink of her morning tea.</p><p>“No.” He asserts. He grumbles and clicks his tongue at his numerous failed attempts. At last, he realizes the folly of his ways and backs up a step towards her. His towering height has a way with her feelings. She rests her tea nearby and walks to his request for help. Intentionally taking her time, she faces his back, to the cold exterior of his armour. She runs her fingertips along each groove, muscles underneath tense under her presence, like a deer in headlights, if the deer is a lactose-intolerant cat with stolen cheese and the headlights are the cat’s owner, the buyer of the aforementioned cheese. He is as formidable as a warrior as he is terrible as a liar. </p><p>“Why do you deny yourself of pleasure?” She already knows the answer but wants to hear it from his lips.</p><p>“Because I have to leave, I cannot be late.” Time is but a construct, without it, life would surely flourish.</p><p>“Right. Of course, we mustn’t make you late.” She isn’t sure if he can sense the trail of taunts she left in her words, she doesn’t care now; her fingers have moved down to his greaves, releasing, undoing. </p><p>“Eleena!” He stops her hands with a quick grab in a scolding tone as a teacher would to a student when precious rules are broken. She can feel him slightly quivering under her, so powerful and yet fragile. She makes him face her, all of her: she is still naked. She pulls him to her by his chest piece, a kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated. Unfazed by the unattractiveness of her hurried kiss, she attempts again, with the proper allure she envisioned. Her tongue searches for him and they finally find the right pace, rhythm synced, fluids exchanged.</p><p>“I forgot to tell you something.” She says as she catches her breaths between the voluntary hold of his tongue.</p><p>“What is it?” He barely manages the words out, his desire makes him drown in the whirlpool of his own making.</p><p>With a click, she pulls the greaves off of him and it slumps to the floor. She imprisons his tongue again in her mouth. He mumbles something but she pretends not to hear, an objection most likely. His hands push her into the dense wall, it is just as she has planned, she has him within her spinning grasp. How frail the needs of men. </p><p>His hands busy themselves with her flesh, wherever and however he likes. Her hands have a purpose, they stroke the nakedness of his toned down erection, now engorged with another surge of blood. She holds the pulsations of his heart in her hands, stroking it slowly, with care and attention, just like how she loves him. </p><p>He gasps for air, it is the motivation for her to do as she will. She looks at the deep gold of his eyes, still stroking, his erection now at its full length. He takes a hand to the wall for stability, and in the instant that he moves, she moves also, down towards his boots. She kneels in front of him and introduces his peaked arousal into her mouth.</p><p>The next sound that comes from Malgus is a mix of surprise, agony and pleasure. The tea transforms her mouth into a heated paradise, like slipping on warmed underwear on a cold day but many, many times more than that. Her tongue traces the shaft of his hot phallus, wet and sticky, she explores all of him as if she is looking for a new uninhabited planet to settle down, have some kids, and grow old on. She doesn’t often give this delight to him, but when she does, he is certain to be drowned in the undertow of his climax. </p><p>She quickens her pace, with a mouth full of him. His eyes close and open, is it more torturous to look? A smirk breaks the seal of her lips on his raw, throbbing flesh, a line of drool escapes the corner of her mouth, she slurps and gulps down some saltiness that oozes out from the tip of his erection. He is almost going to burst. She must time everything right, each lick, each touch, to her plan. </p><p>Malgus groans in both pain and bliss. Perhaps this is worth being late for. How can a tongue be so deliciously tantalizing? What excuses should he make up this time? That he slept in? Traffic? Lost his way? He looks down at the sight of his weakness, her lekkus swing in the air, blue eyes peering up at him, with such determination, such thirst. He is here to quench it. He caresses the curves of her lekkus, making her moan against his scalding urge.</p><p>His breaths greedily for his arrival, her every lick is bringing him closer to that heavenly elation, it is something indescribable to him, no words in any language can fully comprehend the sensation of this very basic need. He is panting now, thrusters fully engaged, the sight of lifting off is near, just one more suck!</p><p>She abruptly ends her teases with a loud, wet pop, discontinuing her work on his unfinished climax, it hangs in the air and trembles in its distress, an unnecessary brace for the ending that never comes. Malgus opens his eyes and begs Eleena to finish what she started.</p><p>“Eleena, please.” </p><p>“On second thought, I will tell you when you return. You should leave, you don’t want them to come with a search party, do you?” She stands and licks the rest of the moisture from her lips. She picks up his dropped greaves and offers them to him, as a consolation prize. “You mustn’t be late, Darth Malgus.” She blurts a loud snicker behind forcibly closed lips; a sad attempt at hiding her gleeful win.</p><p>His face, an inconsolably devastated mien. It is not simply like when you fail at a task that you’ve excelled at before. But instead, it is like when you scrape together all your savings, living off of expired simulated meat flavoured instant noodles for years, having had no vacations other than the bike trips to that park in the next neighbouring town once every couple of weeks, to use its free public work out equipment just so you can say you’re “relatively active”. Then finally, you’re able to purchase the dream house you’ve always wanted. You buy all the furniture, decorations, beddings, pots and pans and whatever else you want to fill your new house with only to find out on the first day of moving in that the house is extremely haunted and all the ghosts are threatening to kill you unless you to leave expeditiously due to your atrocious sense of decor. </p><p>What can he do now, but pick up the pieces of his dignity from the floor? He mumbles something to himself, possibly a curse. She watches him put on his greaves in the same disappointment as she had earlier with a smile hidden behind the rim of the cup on her lips. As he leaves their residence, dressed for battle, she can still see the outline of his aching erection through the thickness of his armour. He shoots her a look that is supposed to be threatening, she should be quaking in her knees at his powerful glare, maybe a hope that he would spare his ire upon his return. Her reply, all she can muster under these circumstances, is the tinkling of her fingers in the air as if she is playing an invisible instrument accompanied by a wide toothy grin. He will be sorry now, for the entirety of his time away from her, she is certain of it.</p><p>****</p><p>Imperial Trooper 1: Look what the anooba dragged in. The always tardy Darth Malgus. You owe me 500 creds.</p><p>Imperial Trooper 2: Shouldn’t he try to be punctual? I mean, we’re all waiting for him.</p><p>Imperial Trooper 1: You try telling a Darth to be punctual. I don’t want to be choked! Not by him anyway.</p><p>Imperial Trooper 2: What an incredibly unprofessional Sith.</p><p>Imperial Trooper 1: Shh! Here it is, what excuse does he have for us this time?</p><p>Imperial Trooper 2:...Traffic? But it’s so early it’s almost late! The sun isn’t even up!</p><p>Imperial Trooper 1: That excuse is blander than a Jedi’s robes! At least his last excuse was funny; he said he had to help a lost loth cat find its owner!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Seriously though, I wrote this to get me out of my writing rut. A smut for a rut. Ha! Thank you for reading! Come visit me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/introversiontherapy">my tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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